Services Rendered
by D.K. Archer
Summary: Todd and his mother, preseries


Services Rendered

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"Todd? Baby?" she asked dully, reaching a hand out to touch the boy's back. He glanced over his shoulder at her, still bent into the refrigerator, hunting for something on those shelves he could eat. "Honey, could you make me some coffee? I don't feel too well this morning."

Todd raised his eyebrow. He didn't need to say it; 'Brown Bottle Flu.' She'd had company last night, and Todd had, obligingly, stayed out of the apartment, though where he had gone God knew. There was so much he didn't tell her. Todd, thirteen this year, went to the cupboard, pulling down the coffee can and finding a filter. He'd done this before, obviously. His mother sat down on the kitchen chair, rubbing her forehead with he hand. Her hands had been cut not too long ago, the scars between her fingers still pink. Her fingers lived separate now, a thin line of scarring running through the soft flesh between them, where, until last year, there's been a web. Her last man, the 'we're gonna be okay now' fellow, the 'he'd gonna take care of us' fellow, the 'Call me Uncle Steve' fellow, had paid a few thousand dollars to have them snipped. Her hands were normal now, her nails home manicured in pink nail polish. Todd loaded the filter and hit the 'on' switch, watching the coffee maker grumble to work.

"Have any luck?" he asked, a little flatly.

His mother blinked at him. "Luck?"

He turned her a dull look, and her stomach flipped quietly.

"I mean, is he gonna pay the RENT this month? Or have you moved on to strictly 'payment for services rendered'?" he said, a slick, filthy insinuation in his tone.

She stared. A deep, horrible mortification rolled up slowly from her stomach. Her son! Barely thirteen, and saying--!

She grabbed the saltshaker off the table and threw it at him. He blocked it, and it bounced harmlessly onto the rug. "How DARE you! Todd--!" she blustered, absolutely horrified. She had never. She WOULD never. Not unless—

It hadn't been going well. Steve had left them in a bind. She'd promised to love her, to take care of her. With him they'd had enough money to go out to eat every Saturday, he'd paid to fix her hands, and her teeth. He'd said they'd be happy. And then his wife had called, and it had all gone to shit—

"Sorry." Todd grumbled, but he didn't sound sorry. "Didn't mean it."

It didn't appease her. Her nose wrinkled, holding back frustrated tears. She was so tired. She was always so tired. "Todd, I'm doing this for you!" she said, hating how her head hurt, how sore she was, how the bedroom had been so empty this morning, nothing but a used condom on the floor and hair on the soap. "We need somebody to take care of us, you know that! I'm working so hard, Todd, I'm at that stupid diner ten hours a day and I can't even afford to put food in that refrigerator! So don't you talk to me like that, don't you EVER talk to me like that!"

Todd grimaced, looking properly cowed.

"Do you think I like it??" she demanded, voice a little high. "Do you think I like having to do this? You need a father! I need someone to help pay the rent! This is the only chance we've got, Todd, if you don't want to end up like—"

"Okay, I'm sorry, okay??" Todd interrupted, holding his hands up to stop her. "I'm really really sorry! I'm an ass."

She sat back down, sniffing. "You know better, Todd…"

"Yeah, yeah. I know better." He muttered. He looked back to the coffee pot, burbling away on the counter. He was quiet for a little while. "…You workin the eight to six shift again?" he asked finally.

At the table, his mother nodded. "Yeah. I've gotta get ready. Shouldn't you be getting ready for school?"

Todd shrugged.

"Yes. You should be." She said, a little sternly. "Go change clothes and brush your teeth. The bus gets here in twenty minutes.

Todd rolled his eyes. It was such a normal expression, such a teenaged expression, that she almost smiled. He went to his bedroom to change, dropping a grudging kiss on her forehead as he passed her. She did smile then, a little, though she did still hurt, and she still needed a shower. She smelled like someone else. Instead, she waited for the coffee to brew.


End file.
